Page 76 of Dirty Mafia King
I make a face, the thought repulsive. “Sandro’s busy building a new casino.”
“And Sebastiano Beneventi isn’t busy?” She snatches the club from my hands. “He wants you here.”
Our conversation ends as our instructor returns. But her words keep replaying in my mind. He wants you here.
“Alessia,” she snaps, raising the club and poking it in my direction. “Just keep away from him, okay?”
“I’ll try.” Part of me realizes this is the wisest choice. And the other part wishes for the courage to interrupt him in his office, perch my bare bottom on his desk, and completely, utterly submit to the wicked man.
A shiver races up my spine.
Zoey bends her legs and sticks her butt out, and I burst into laughter. My decision on how to handle Sebastiano Beneventi can wait.
The instructor hurries forward and attempts to reposition her. She sways her hips and makes it impossible. Shaking his head, he finally gives up and shuffles about a yard to her right.
Zoey grins, then shouts, “I’m gonna hit the ball now.”
I take several steps back, and then several more.
“Golfers say fore before they swing,” he immediately corrects her. “And keep a firm hold of the…”
“Fore.” Zoey swings, and the club goes flying sideways through the air, spiraling three times, then clipping the instructor’s thigh and barely missing his groin before landing several feet to his right.
Cupping his privates in a belated attempt at protecting himself, he glares at Zoey.
Guards race toward us, and I eye them with suspicion. Are they coming for Zoey? Is Freido tossing her off the estate again?
Zoey blows a huge pink bubble, not concerned in the least.
And I lose it, laughing so hard, my classmates in Rome can hear me.
* * *
BASTIAN
“Kneel.” I unzip my pants and shove down my boxers. The three women before me understand the assignment, dropping to their knees, licking their plump lips, and waiting to choke on my big fat cock.
This is what I envisioned the entire ride home from Los Angeles. Three of my favorite whores servicing me. A blond with a golden mouth. A brunette with her big fake tits, and a redheaded submissive with a tight ass and filthy mind. Typically, I’d bend them over the sofa, tan their asses, then find release on and in any part of them I like. But sometimes, nothing beats a good blow job.
I frown down at the blond. Not a hint of innocence. Not the slightest flush of excitement.
Not a little dirty-minded virgin, dripping wet for me.
I make them wait while I dip the homemade biscotti into a hot cup of coffee and take a bite. It’s exactly how I like it, not too dry and not too sweet and with the slightest hints of almond.
Alessia’s laughter draws my attention to my laptop, where my state-of-the-art security cameras track her progress on the golf course. She’s naturally talented; it wasn’t just a fluke. But her friend’s a fucking nightmare. Yeah, I contacted the professional player directly and paid through the nose for the lesson. Now fucking Zoey is going to frighten the guy off.
While I was in L.A., I had Freido purchase the best golf clubs and gear and instructed him to convert the room near the kitchen into a study for her schoolwork. Fuck knows why I insisted she be inside the main house and not the casita. Not that the meek little baby will disrupt my work.
Not intentionally, anyway.
The brunette, growing impatient, clears her throat.
I wipe my hands on a napkin, then wrap fingers around my cock and stroke my bull hard. Over and over, waiting to feel inspired.
But the truth is, the scene bores me.
My tie is suddenly too tight. Lack of oxygen, that’s what’s screwing with my mind.
